


The Path Not Taken

by thewightknight



Series: Champion of the Just [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Templars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3472625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events at Val Royeaux, Barris and several other Templars decide to leave the Order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you side with the mages, Ser Barris isn't among the templars that attack Haven. So what happens to him?
> 
> Putting this in the series even though it's a different timeline.
> 
> [Here's Serena](https://thewightknight.tumblr.com/tagged/serena%20trevelyan), for the curious.

They had been seven when they’d left Therinfal Redoubt. Sers Reuben and Dorset had been with Barris that day in Val Royeaux. Aubrie, Hugh, Wallis and Kya had been equally as sickened once they’d heard what happened. They planned for a week, then raided a lyrium storeroom and slipped out together during third watch on the night of the new moon.

They’d lost Wallis when they’d stumbled into a bandit attack on a caravan of refugees. Rootless and searching for a purpose, they’d agreed that it was true to their original oaths to protect to escort the refugees to their destination. Appropriating the bandits’ patchwork armor, they’d sold their Templar gear to an obliging merchant in the next town. 

There’d also been several bows among the bandits, and Delrin was surprised to find out he was still a fairly good hand at hunting, despite his years spent in the tower. They wouldn’t have accepted payment from the refugees even if they’d had any coin to spare, so not only did the hunting supplement the dinner pot, but it brought in pelts they could barter for supplies as well. The only concern they had was their dwindling supply of lyrium. Even with rationing their intake severely from the outset, each taking the bare minimum necessary to ease withdrawal symptoms, they wouldn’t last much longer. They were all fairly confident (at least out loud to each other) in their ability to wean themselves off over time, but there was no question that length of time was much longer than their supply would last, and hunting pelts wouldn’t bring in the coin they’d need to buy enough for all of them from smugglers.

“I think this should be the last group,” Delrin told the rest that evening around their fire. They usually set up a separate camp on the road from the people they were escorting. It gave them all some illusion of privacy. 

“What do we do then?” Kya asked. She was hunched over, head in her hands. They always took their lyrium in the mornings, so they’d be at their best during travel when they were most likely to be attacked. Kya had been hit hardest by withdrawal symptoms, with Reuben a close second. Both stubbornly refused to take any more than the rest of them, though, and evenings were hard for them all. 

“I think we should join the Inquisition,” he replied. He waited for the expected uproar, was surprised when there was none. 

“Sounds as good an idea as any. Do you think they’ll help us?” They all knew what Dorset meant.

“Even if there’s no lyrium, at least there’ll be healers there. They can help to ease the symptoms.”

“So it’s agreed?” He looked around the fire, getting five nods back. “Alright, then. Once we get these people safely to Redcliffe, we’ll go to Haven.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the gates of Redcliffe came into sight. There had been signs of fighting all along the last stretch of road, but they hadn’t encountered any live bandits this trip. Two women were having a heated conversation just inside the gates. One of them shook her head and said loudly, “The Templars were recalled, but some of them have ignored the order.” The father of the family they’d been escorting shot them a look but said nothing. They said their goodbyes and Delrin closed the man’s hand over the few coins he tried to offer them, ignoring the man’s protestations.

Delrin shook his head as they made their way further into the village. “Word travels fast.”

“I wonder if anyone else has left?” Aubrie mused. She stretched and resettled her shield on her back, using the motion to glance around without being obvious. “They’re watching us. I don’t think folks around here have much use for Templars anymore, or strangers in general for that matter.” 

“Let’s just see what’s at the market, and then head out to the crossroads. Someone there should be able to tell us the fastest route to Haven.”

“Do you think we could stop by the Chantry?” Kya asked. “I’d like to light a candle. For Wallis.” 

They hadn’t run into any bandits but there had been an encounter with a bear. Its pelt and claws alone got them a couple of oilcloths, an extra blanket, and some more arrowheads. That would keep them all dry the next time it rained, thank the Maker. They traded the rest of their haul for foodstuffs that would travel well. 

A young man passed them on the path to the Chantry, dark haired and well-groomed, carrying a staff. Everyone looked to Delrin and he gave a stand-down gesture. They’d left the order and no longer needed to worry about apprehending apostates. As the Chantry doors came into view, a group of people was exiting, and he stopped in surprise. 

Hugh and Dorset spoke in unison.

“Is that…?” 

“That’s the Herald!”

“Well, if this isn’t a sign from the Maker,” Kya quipped, and Delrin found himself smiling. 

As the group reached them, he bowed. “M’lady Herald.”

She stopped, took in their appearance, looking at him closely. He felt himself straightening, standing at attention, heard the rustling behind him that meant the others were too. Her eyes met his and recognition sparked. “I remember you, from Val Royeaux. Ser … I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Just Delrin, m’lady. I don’t think any of us can claim Ser anymore. We’ve left the Order, you see. We … well, we were actually hoping to join the Inquisition.” 

She raised her eyebrow and grinned. “Well, it looks like today is your lucky day, not-Ser-Delrin. We’re heading back to Haven ourselves. Why don’t you tell us how you can best serve the Inquisition along the way?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road from Redcliffe to Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this is turning into a longer story than the others! I generally know where I'm going with this story, but apologies in advance because I have no idea how long it will take me to get there.

It turned out the Herald wasn’t heading straight to Haven after leaving Redcliffe. They stopped at the crossroads in the Hinterlands first and Barris and his party were fed and rested at one of the Inquisition camps while the Herald consulted with various people. He felt like he was eavesdropping, although she made no attempt to hide from them what she was doing. It was a surprise to hear what her reports consisted of. Instead of troop movements or demon reports, she was detailing the location of supplies the rebel mages had left behind and marking on maps where watchtowers should be placed so the farmers in the area could keep a lookout for bandit raids. From what he heard, she had spent the past few weeks in much the same way that he and his former Templar companions had. Her priority seemed to be to protect the people first, which cemented for him that he had made the right choice in suggesting they join the Inquisition. 

He watched her companions covertly, sure they were doing the same to him and his companions. There was a gruff older man in Grey Warden armor, a bald and grumpy-seeming elf ( _not a Templar anymore_ , he reminded himself again), and a dwarf with a giant crossbow who made up in personability for the other two and three or four more besides. When the afternoon latened and she announced they would camp at the crossroads that night and head to Haven in the morning, the dwarf, who introduced himself as Varric, produced a skin of ale that he insisted they share around the campfire. That night the former Templars all had a full night’s sleep for the first time in weeks, thanks to the Inquisition soldiers on watch. 

The next morning should have seen them all rested, but even the minimal amounts of ale they’d consumed seemed to have had an adverse effect on the lyrium cravings they all felt upon waking. As they finished passing the flask amongst themselves he noticed the Herald and her elf companion watching them. They conferred briefly and then she approached.

“Forgive me for intruding, but I couldn’t help but noticing … and, well, we do have lyrium available, if you need it. You don’t have to short yourselves.” Her tone was apologetic, but there was no trace of pity.

It was Kya who spoke first but her answer was not what he would have expected. “Thank you, m’lady, but I’ve come this far.” 

Looking around, he saw the others nod in agreement. “We appreciate your offer, but I think until we know what use you can make of us, we’ll continue as we’ve been going.”

“Fair enough. It’s seven or eight days to Haven from here, though, so if you find yourself running short, please let us help.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They fell into a routine in short order and that first morning was the only bad one. Traveling with the Herald and her companions meant shorter watches and still allowed some of them to get an uninterrupted night’s sleep on the road, another first since Therinfal. And since they were traveling with fit and hardy companions and not having to keep track of stragglers in a refugee caravan, the party was making much better speed than they’d become accustomed to. 

Time passed swiftly on the road, as the Herald proved to be full of wit, bantering often with her traveling companions. Warden Blackwall proved to be much less gruff than his appearance suggested and even the elf, Solas, unbent on occasion to deliver a dry comment. The Herald was Serena, he knew, but he couldn’t imagine calling her by her given name, and it seemed he wasn’t alone in this. Her companions all referred to her as “Herald” when they addressed her, although Blackwall sometimes called her “my lady.” She seemed uncomfortable with this – the long scar on her left cheek twitched whenever someone used the title. He found himself drawn to watching her, surreptitiously he thought, but in the afternoon of the second day she fell in beside him as they were walking. 

“Are we making you jumpy?” she asked.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Well you are, or were, Templars, and here you are traveling with two apostates.”

“I do keep reminding myself I’m not a Templar anymore, but it’s not because of you or your friend there.” He flashed her a grin. “There are much larger concerns to worry about, as things currently stand.”

“So is it the Herald thing that’s got you constantly watching me then? It’s not just you, by the way,” she added. “The rest of your group is giving me the side-eye, but not as much as you.”

“No, it’s just … Well, you don’t seem to care for it, when people call you Herald.”

“What makes you say that?” There it was again, a tiny spasm. 

She must have noticed where his gaze had focused, because she put her hand over her cheek. “Damnit. I can feel it, but I didn’t know it showed.”

“It’s slight. I’m sure most people don’t notice.” 

“Oh, that’s a comfort.” She rubbed her cheek briefly, and let her hand fall back to her side. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve been watching me more closely than most people?” Her eyes twinkled in a way he was already coming to recognize, deflecting what was quickly becoming an awkward moment with humor. 

He was grateful for his darker skin as he felt heat rise to his face and tried to cover any noticeable reaction with a shrug. “I’ve always watched people. It can get pretty boring, you know? Standing around in hallways for hours on end. It’d be a lot less noticeable if I was still wearing a huge helmet, I’m sure.” 

“Mmm hmm.” The twinkle was still there and she was grinning. He couldn’t help but grin back. They both noticed they were falling behind at the same moment and hurried to catch up. 

They continued in silence for several minutes while he cast about, trying to find a way to prolong their conversation. “If you don’t mind me asking, were you in a Circle before the rebellion?”

“I was. At Ostwick.” No one could have missed the spasm that passed across her face this time. He’d heard about what happened at Ostwick at the start of the rebellion and was amazed that she was willing to speak to them at all, let alone travel with them. Brilliant way to make her want to keep talking to him, there. But it raised another question, and a worry in his mind.

“Those aren’t from …?” He trailed off, gesturing towards his own face.

“No, I did this to myself. Not on purpose,” she hastened to add, seeing how that answer didn’t reassure him. “It was when my magic first started manifesting. I hid it at first, and thought I could get away with it, but then my brother … well, he acted like a big brother, and I got mad and exploded a couple of windows. We both took some serious cuts and I got scared because I knew I couldn’t explain it away and my parents would send me the Circle. So I ran away. Managed to hide for almost two weeks, so by the time they found me it was too late for healing.”

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing again.

She shrugged. “Nothing to do about it now.”

“No, I’m sorry you were scared. Of the Circle, I mean. 

“Oh. Well, hopefully some good will come of all this, and there won’t be any more reasons to be afraid.” 

She smiled at him fully for the first time. Her eyes were the most amazing color, he noted as he responded in kind. And they were lagging behind the group again. Varric was watching them, he noticed, the corners of his mouth twitching. As they caught back up she moved forward along their line and settled next to Blackwall, starting to question him about Grey Warden movements in the area.

He spent the rest of the afternoon waffling back and forth between waiting to be smitten by a bolt from above for the thoughts he was starting to have about the the Herald of Andraste and trying to decide how best to describe the color of her eyes. No smiting occurred, though, and he eventually settled on topaz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's Serena](http://thewightknight.tumblr.com/post/114455913083/more-playing-around-in-the-character-creator), for the curious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A rift’s opened up nearby. It wasn’t hear when we passed this way last. We need to close it. It’s too close to the road.”
> 
> On the road from Redcliffe to Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long to update this. I got caught up with other characters. Hopefully chapter 4 won't take as long. I've got it half written already.
> 
> P.S. I hate writing combat

There was another advantage to traveling with the Herald’s party – they had been this way before and had all the good camping spots already mapped out. Their evenings had become increasingly merry as they’d grown more familiar with each other and they’d started swapping tales over the campfire. He’d been heartened to hear from Serena that even in a Circle as strict as Ostwick there’d still been mischief to be had. Varric had them all in tears relating some of the antics from his days with the Champion of Kirkwall. After some prompting, Delrin shared stories of his Initiate days, detailing the ways he and the other Delrins had taken advantage of their shared name and tweaked their trainers until the poor men and women started calling them by their surnames in defense. His companions hadn’t heard most of these stories before and Reuben and Hugh stared at him open mouthed as he described some of the stunts they’d pulled.

By the end of their fifth day of travel the snow-capped peaks of the Frostback Mountains had disappeared into the clouds and the road had started to slope upwards. That evening they camped in a sheltered area next to a small stream. Aubrie had tickled a couple of fish out of the water and Solas roasted them with some mushrooms and herbs he’d collected during the day. It was one of the best meals he’d ever had, Delrin decided, as he watched the Herald laugh at something Varric said. 

After they’d finished the meal, Serena gave each her companions a significant look, eyebrow arched. They all shrugged in response. 

“You’re no help, the lot of you.” She turned to the Templars. “There’s two choices from this point on. We push ourselves hard for the next couple of days and make Haven a bit after dusk the day after tomorrow, or we don’t and get there around noon the day after that. My companions seem disinclined to make a choice. What do you think?”

Hugh spoke up. “I’m up for the push.” The rest nodded in agreement. 

“Alright, then. Pushing it is.”

Part of him had been hoping the others would opt for the longer journey, Delrin admitted to himself as they set the watch schedules for the evening and prepared for bed. He could see the appeal of reaching Haven sooner, as they’d been in limbo for weeks and now had a purpose ahead, but he’d liked to have had the chance for another day in Serena’s company. He had no idea what would occur when they arrived at Haven but he doubted there would be much chance of interaction between a lowly former Templar and the Herald of Andraste after this journey ended. Sleep eluded him that night. Serena had taken first watch and he found himself following her movements as she paced the perimeters of camp, an occasional beam of moonlight illuminating her profile.

The pace they set the next morning didn’t leave much breath for conversation. They stopped briefly for water but ate as they walked, both the midday meal and supper. The path began to meander upwards through the trees, a gentle slope but still enough to make his legs burn. About an hour after sunset they made camp, although calling it camp was generous, as they simply laid out their bedrolls in a circle, not bothering with a fire. That night they each took a watch, making shorter shifts and more sleep for all. 

Morning still came too early, although no one complained. Kya was muttering under her breath as she stretched, neck cracking, but when she saw Delrin had noticed, she grinned. “Just telling myself there’ll be a hot meal and a tankard at the end of this. And maybe even a bath, if we’re lucky.” 

“How about a cot to sleep on instead of digging rocks out from under your bedroll all night?” Dorset chimed in, giving Delrin a worried look as Kya turned away. She didn’t look good this morning, heavy circles under her eyes, and her smile had been forced. She refused to take more than her share of their lyrium, though, and declined again when Solas repeated the Herald’s earlier offer to share their stores. Shrugging his shoulders at Dorset, he turned and packed up his belongings, munching on the dried travel rations that were handed out as he shouldered his roll. With camp so minimal they were back on the road again in short order. 

They were all feeling the strain from yesterday’s march so Delrin didn’t notice at first how quiet the forest had become. He’d just started to notice the lack of birdsong when the Herald came to a dead stop in front of him, almost causing a pile-up as Dorset almost ran into him and Hugh almost collided with her. Serena’s features tensed with pain and green light pulsed from her left hand. 

“A rift’s opened up nearby. It wasn’t here when we passed this way last. We need to close it. It’s too close to the road.”

Delrin looked around at the others. Each of his companions gave him a nod, so he saluted her and said “We’re up for a bit of demon hunting. What will we be facing?”

Her smile must be the most potent spell in her arsenal, he decided, as she began describing what they would be facing. “The rift will lie dormant until someone gets close, and then it will start spawning demons. They usually come in waves. I can weaken the rift, which hurts the demons. When the demons die it weakens the rift. I can usually close a rift after two waves. The second wave is usually stronger. So far we’ve seen mostly wisps and shades but we’ve had a few fire demon and a terrors with some of them. You’ll be able to tell when they’re forming. The rift will spike and fade energy will pulse out. The demons manifest at the end of the pulses. Fade energy will randomly burst around the rift when it’s active. You can sometimes hear it coming, but battle noise can cover it up. Oh, and the terrors can slip through the Fade and jump out at you from nowhere, so if one shows up take it out first.”

“What do you need us to do?”

“You know your people best, Ser Delrin. What do you recommend?”

“Kya and I will watch your back.” Kya’s appearance hadn’t improved since they’d awoken and that would keep her out of the thick of the fight and under his watchful eye. He turned to the others. “The rest of you concentrate on the demons. Take your lead from Blackwall. Aubrie, keep an eye out for Solas, and Hugh, do the same for Varric.” Serena nodded in approval and started off the path and through the trees. 

It wasn’t until everyone trailed after her into the forest that he realized the Herald had deferred to him as the leader of his group and his companions had followed along. The thought was a distraction, though, so he pushed it to the back of his mind for later. As they neared the rift, a crackling cloud of green energy, it contracted into a spiky mass and tendrils snaked out, as the Herald had described. She took a place to the side, between two of the forming demons. Kya placed herself at the Herald’s back. Delrin drove his sword into the ground in front of him, propped his shield next to it, and readied his bow. 

As the first demons appeared he drew back to shoot. Serena put a hand on his arm. “Wait. Let the others engage first. They’ll start focusing on me as soon as I start disrupting the rift, but it’ll gain me a few seconds.” He nodded and stood at the ready. 

Five demons had appeared. By the time he finished counting them a barrier crackled into place around them. Serena raised her arm and green light shot from her outstretched hand. The rift writhed, emitting a noise the likes of which he had never heard, crackling and humming, raising goosebumps on his arms. Two wisps immediately focused on them, shooting lightning which was deflected by the barrier. He started firing at one and took it down with three shots. The second fell to Varric’s arrows. The third dissipated under Solas’ lightning attacks and the other two, despair demons, were hemmed in by sword and shield. Just as their barrier fell the rift surged, diffusing into a green cloud again. Serena fell back, dropping her arm. With the rift weakened the despair demons dissipated. 

“That went well. We’ve got a few seconds before the next wave starts. Having the extra bodies helps.” She grinned at him, and he raised his bow in salute. 

The rift contracted again, and this time seven tendrils emerged. One of them terminated right next to where they were standing and Serena and Kya began to move off. Delrin started to follow them, but paused. “I’ll catch up. I’m going to try something.” It was hard without lyrium but he concentrated, focusing. It took an enormous amount of effort but he pushed through, purging the area around him. The fade energy around him dispersed and no demon materialized. He wiped the sweat from his face, swaying a little, as the others returned to his side.

“You’re going to have to tell me how you did that when this is over,” Serena told him as the other demons finished manifesting. More despair demons, but this time they had two rage demons and a terror. Mindful of her earlier warning, Delrin started peppering the terror with arrows as soon as Serena concentrated on the rift again. Kya cried out a warning, and he turned to see one of the rage demons bearing down on them. 

He waited until the last moment before dropping his bow and picking up sword and shield, settling into guard position between it and the Herald. His barrier fizzled just as the demon reached them and he braced himself but another snapped into place around him as it attacked. He and Kya battered it back with shield and sword, trying to drive it away. There was no finesse to fighting these creatures, he remembered his trainers saying. They just attacked mindlessly until their target died or they did. In his peripheral vision he could see Blackwall and Hugh hammering away at the other rage demon. 

With an explosion he more felt than heard the rift flared again and the demon in front of him staggered. It didn’t dissipate as the weaker demons had done and with a gesture it cast a stream of flame at them, eroding the last of their barriers. It started to attack again but was suddenly frozen in place, ice crystals covering its amorphous form. An arrow hit it dead center and exploded and frozen chunks of demon flew in all directions.

He turned to give his thanks to Varric, but the dwarf was scanning the field. “Keep your eyes peeled! That terror is still around someplace.”

Before he had a chance to acknowledge the dwarf there was a ripple in the air next to him and he went flying as the terror burst through from the Fade. The force of the blow knocked the air from him and he almost dropped his sword from the secondary impact when he hit the ground. Serena summoned a wall of ice between herself and the demon as he struggled to rise to his feet, spearing it and holding it in place. Before it could break free Kya charged it from the rear, smashing it into the ice with the full weight of her body behind her shield. She drove it completely through the ice and to the ground, rolling off and away when Solas yelled for her to get clear. Bolts of energy peppered the creature and it shuddered, then went still. After a few minutes its body dissolved in a wave of green light, leaving behind a sharp claw embedded in the ground.

Delrin managed to get to his knees, leaning heavily on his sword. He could stand, he knew, but he didn’t quite want to, yet. Now that the fight was over his head throbbed, as casting without lyrium to buffer his abilities caught up with him.

When he looked up, Serena was standing over him. "Are you alright?"

It took him two tries before he could get enough breath into his lungs to respond. "I'll live," he croaked, and was rewarded with one of those magnificent smiles again.

“Anybody broken? Anybody bleeding?” Serena surveyed the group. They were battered and there was some blood but they’d come through remarkably unscathed. “That’s good then. I don’t know how this battle would have turned out if you hadn’t joined us. Thank you.” 

Taking another look at them all, she snorted, shaking her head. “I think we’re going to take that extra day to get to Haven after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still reading this, ma serannas.
> 
> Oh, and I'm ignoring how you can't switch weapons in mid combat in the game, and how warriors aren't given the option to master archery, because I think it's stupid. So there. Nyah.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Delrin and his companions finally arrive at Haven.

They ended up resting in the clearing for several hours. The demons had all melted away with death so it was by far the most pleasant post-battle battlefield Delrin had ever seen. They could have moved on sooner but Kya was exhausted. He was sure she’d been injured, as pale and shaking as she was when the fight ended, but she admitted to him that she’d burned through the little lyrium in her system during the fighting, attempting to access her Templar abilities. She insisted she was fine otherwise, so he helped her find a comfortable spot in the shade and kept her skin filled with water.

The only casualty their party had suffered during the attack, it seemed, was his bow. It had been trampled during the rage demon’s attack and had snapped in several places. It was Serena who found it and he shrugged off her apology.

“It wasn’t even a good bow. We collected several from some bandits we’d fought soon after we left Therinfal. They were all poor, as bows go. That one was just the least poor.”

“We can find you a replacement once we get to Haven,” she promised.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure you already have much better hunters than I.” He’d miss it, though. He’d had a bow put in his hands almost before he could walk, it seemed, years before he’d held his first sword. It was something he’d been expected to give up when he began his training as a Templar and he'd been surprised how much it had meant to have a little bit of his old life back.

Once they resumed their journey, it was at a much slower pace. Kya apologized several times for holding them up until the Herald reassured her.

“If it wasn’t for the presence of you and your companions, our group would be moving even slower now, and that’s if I was moving at all.” Kya tried to stammer a protest and Serena clapped her on the shoulder. “None of that now. Not a one of us is up for a fast march now, and we’ll still make Haven early tomorrow afternoon.”

It was as she predicted. Shortly after noon the next day their path through the trees opened out into a clearing above a frozen lake. Serena led the way through the encampment that surrounded the chantry. Her companions peeled off as they progressed, leaving the Templars to trail along in her wake, not knowing where else to go. Serena scanned the crowd as they made their way towards a group of drilling soldiers, swerving suddenly and beckoning them to follow her, heading towards a man in a cape fringed with fur who was calling out commands to those training.

As they drew nearer, the man called out to Serena. “Herald! Welcome back.” He took them all in, a brief scan, but he felt like they’d all been assessed as thoroughly as if the man had quizzed him for hours. 

“Commander Cullen! These Templars found us on the road. They wish to join the Inquisition.” Serena introduced each of them by name, and the Commander shook each of their hands in welcome. She left him for last and so the Commander felt him freeze when she named him their leader and followed with “And if you’ll remember, I’d mentioned him before – he was the Templar that spoke out to Lord Seeker Lucius at Val Royeaux, questioning his actions.” 

She’d spoke of him before they met? And she named him leader. He tried to demur and step back but the Commander still had hold of his hand, and then Hugh spoke up.

“He’ll try to deny it, because that’s how he is, but the Herald speaks the right of it. It was his plan that allowed us to escape Therinfal and his decisions that kept us alive and led us here.” 

Looking around, he could see the rest of his group nodding in assent. The Commander gave his hand another shake, managing to catch his eyes and smiling before releasing him. 

“Welcome to you all. You’ve been on the road for some time, from the looks of it.” He beckoned and a soldier ran up to them. “Sergeant Marsa will find you places tonight, and one of my aides will work with you tomorrow to find your place here. Ser Delrin, if you would, I’m sure our Sister Nightingale would like to ask you about the details that led to your joining us?”

Delrin turned to thank Serena, but she was already making her way up to the Chantry doors.

The sergeant led his companions off and Cullen directed him towards a cluster of tents across from the Chantry. He introduced Delrin to Sister Nightingale and then excused himself. Sister Nightingale, sweet of face and voice, proceeded to interrogate him about the Lord Seeker and what he’d observed at Therinfal Redoubt before they left with a thoroughness that belied her innocent appearance. He was glad he had no secrets to try to hide, he realized during her questioning. He also made sure to mention how his ability to purge an area of magic had affected the demon at the rift. By the time she finished the sun had set. It took him a moment to realize that Commander Cullen had returned and was addressing him. He’d been going by Barris since his initiate days and he wasn’t yet used to being called “Ser Delrin.” Serena had begun it and he decided against correcting anyone. This was a new start for him and the change felt right.

The Commander, unaware of his thoughts, interpreted his slow response as exhaustion, and before he could correct the man he was being led towards a cluster of tents. A bowl of stew appeared in his hands and the Commander excused himself, saying they would talk more tomorrow. 

He was tired, and starving, too, he realized as he took the first bite from the bowl. For the first time in weeks he allowed himself to feel that he and his friends were safe. Haven was truly named. 

His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl in no time and it was taken from his hands and he was pointed towards a cot in a nearby tent. Not even bothering to remove his armor, he fell into it, drawing a blanket up over his shoulders. His last thought before he drifted off was that he hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to Serena.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Delrin has an interesting training session with his new squad.

Over the course of the next few days Delrin found himself settled with a new title and a troop. Under his command now was a mix of former guardsmen and mercenaries and two apostates, pulled from the steady stream of people that kept appearing at Haven, along with Dorset and another former Templar, Ser Nicolas, formerly of the Montsimmard Circle. Templars still, according to Commander Cullen – he was still getting used to that. He was also still adjusting to his new rank, looking around each time someone called him Corporal before realizing it was him being addressed. 

They’d all been disheartened to learn that weaning themselves off of their lyrium addictions wasn’t as simple a process as they’d first believed. The worst of the symptoms wouldn’t manifest, they were told, until they completely stopped taking it. They had each been given a choice and of all of them only Kya had decided to proceed. She was working with the Healers now. It seemed she had a talent for mixing potions and poultices, so she was making herself useful while receiving their aid. 

Dorset was now a Sergeant, and his second in command. The rest of his former companions had been spread through the Inquisition’s forces. He still saw them occasionally during the day as they went about their duties and they all tried to meet for dinner or a drink at least once a week. He was the only one who’d ended up with a command to lead, though, so there wasn’t the same level of easy camaraderie they’d had on the road. There was a level of deference from them now that hadn’t been present before Haven.

His troop would be sent out soon, to take a turn guarding the King’s road. In preparation he’d been putting his men and women through drills for the last few days, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. He’d left the mages to their own devices today and they’d taken up with some from other squads, practicing away from the rest of the troops out in the trees where they’d be less likely to make people nervous. Dorset, Nicolas and he were a good fit, he thought. The rank and file soldiers, however, needed a lot of work.

On the whole, his soldiers were a good bunch, but the majority of them had never fought in formation and several had bad habits that were going to get them killed the first time they went up against a rogue mage or a demon. The worst was Hagen, who claimed to have been a guardsman for a minor Bann during the Blight. What he’d done for the ten years since, he hadn’t been forthcoming with, but it certainly hadn’t had anything to do with shieldwork. Delrin partnered himself with the man for drills that morning and kept having to stop to have the man fix the angle of his shield. Finally, after the sixth or seventh time Hagen let it fall down and tilt in towards his face he called a halt to their exercise. 

“Stay there. Don’t move. Keep the shield just like that.” He took a step back, reached down and grabbed a handful of snow, slushy and grey, from the field. “Imagine this is fire, or acid,” he said as he compacted the slush into a loose ball and let loose. It hit square in the center of the shield, spraying Hagen in the face as it broke apart. 

The man sputtered, letting his shield drop completely as he wiped the damp mess from his face. Seeing the look Delrin gave him he picked it up again, sheepish, brushing the snow off and settling it back on his arm. 

“Now angle the shield the way I showed you. No, with the edge pointed out more.” He gathered more slush as he spoke, forming another ball. “Hold steady now.” He threw again and this time when the slush hit the shield it sprayed downwards. “Do you see?” 

“Soldiers, halt!” The call rang out across the practice field, echoed by various troop leaders. When Commander Cullen had started watching them from the sidelines, he had no idea. The Herald was beside him, the first he’d seen of her since their arrival at Haven. She was leaning with her arms crossed on the top rail. Catching his gaze, she smiled, and he saluted in return. She exchanged a few words with the Commander and then he vaulted the fence and strode out onto the practice grounds, heading … towards him, Delrin realized. 

“Corporal Delrin just gave a brilliant demonstration on the importance of shieldwork that you all should see. May I?” He nodded at Hagen, and the man handed his shield over, eyes wide. The Commander took a few strides back and turned to face Delrin. He settled into a guard stance, shield at the proper angle. “Corporal, if you would demonstrate again for the company?” 

This was surreal, Delrin thought. He was being invited to throw snowballs at his commanding officer, in front of witnesses. He gave an internal shrug and gathered another handful of slush together. He threw, and watched the snow as it deflected away and down again. Commander Cullen readjusted the shield, mirroring the angle that Hagen kept falling back into. “Again, if you please?” 

“Sir?” he questioned. The Commander nodded and grinned. “It’s all right, soldier. Throw away.” Delrin took a deep breath, took up another sloppy handful and let fly. There was a shocked intake of breath from the gathered soldiers as the grey mess splattered up from the shield and into the Commander’s face and then Serena’s laugh rang out across the practice field. The Commander grinned as well, scraping the slush away with his sleeve. 

“That is why the angle of your shield is so important. If it’s correct, it directs an attack down and away. If it’s incorrect….” He shook his arm, spraying splatters in all directions. “Now, to give you a better demonstration of why this is so important.” He turned towards the Herald where she stood, and she nodded in return. She squinted her eyes, concentrating, and the air around her shimmered as she raised her hands. With a gesture, a wall of ice formed in front of her, sharp shards rising between the fence and the first line of soldiers. The Commander beckoned and all the soldiers gathered round.

“Now if I have my shield angled correctly, you see how the ice will break around me and fall?” He leaned into the ice, his shield pointed outwards. “But if I’d had it this way?” He adjusted the shield again, angling it towards him as he leaned into the ice. There was silence on the field as everyone saw how this angle would have directed the jagged points up and into his face. He broke the wall down with several well-placed bashes, then handed it back to Hagen.

“Alright, soldiers. Back to drill, and keep those shields up this time!” The Commander nodded to Delrin, who saluted in return, and then strode back across the field. He tried to concentrate on his troops, sneaking occasional glances to where Serena still stood, talking to Commander Cullen, but between one look and the next they were both gone. Swallowing his disappointment, he turned his full attention back to his soldiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially supposed to be a part of chapter four, so I had it mostly written already, and I'm shocked that I've almost got chapter 6 finished as well. I was going to wait a bit before posting this and see if I could get further ahead, but I'm afraid if I do that I'll start dithering and second guessing myself, so here it is. Hopefully things will keep rolling, but don't hate me if updates start getting more spread out again. The plan is to try to keep one chapter ahead of myself between writing and updating here.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knight Corporal Delrin takes his troop out on their first patrol.

Delrin had another few days to put his troop through drills, as he’d been notified that they would be going out on patrol at the end of the week. As a new troop, they'd be posted close to Haven, and would be guarding the stretch of road they’d traveled on from the Hinterlands. They’d start ranging out further once they had a bit more experience. This time they would be out for two weeks, in transit to and from Haven for most of another, and then back in Haven for another week. In the future as they ranged further out they’d be both gone and back longer. There was the possibility that at some point they might be assigned elsewhere permanently as the Inquisition established more outposts, but that wouldn’t be for some time yet. What they needed to do right now was to establish goodwill and influence, which the foundling Inquisition greatly needed if they were to gain the support they needed to seal the Breach.

On the morning they were scheduled to leave there was a mad rush in the courtyard when all the supplies he requisitioned weren’t ready. Waiting for the last bits to be found, he was surprised when a familiar voice hailed him. Turning, he saw Serena approaching.

“Ser Delrin! It looks like I’ll be heading back to Redcliffe. Might we travel with you?”

He stopped himself just short of grinning like a fool, bowed to cover his reaction. “It would be my honor, m’lady.”

Varric was accompanying them again but her other companions were new to him. He recognized Seeker Pentaghast by sight, of course, remembering her from Val Royeaux. There was also a Qunari with an eyepatch, a huge axe and an even bigger laugh, and another mage. It took a few seconds to place why this man looked familiar but Delrin finally identified him as the man they’d seen outside the Chantry at Redcliffe on the day they’d met the Herald. 

The rest of their gear was brought up at last and after one more check he signaled his soldiers. They all shouldered their packs and he and Serena led the procession out through Skyhold’s gates.

Delrin’s orders were to station his troop halfway between the Hinterlands and Haven and to patrol the stretch of road from that point out. The main forces stationed at Haven covered the territory closer to the town. The Inquisition had routed a variety of bandits, rogue Templars, and mages from their stronghold in the Hinterlands, so their remnants had spread out into the surrounding wilds and were now preying on travelers and refugees. They were also to look out for the formation of new rifts and send their locations on to Haven if any materialized. 

Serena reassured him about unlikelihood of such an occurrence in their first hours of travel.

“Since we already closed one rift along this route it’s not likely another will open in the immediate region in the near future. We still have a lot to learn about them, but it seems that when I close them it strengthens the veil in that area, and we’ve also found several ancient Elvish artifacts around here that do the same,” she explained.

“I’m sure we’re all happy to hear that.” There were murmurs of agreement from the men and women trailing behind him. He cast about for some way to continue their conversation. “I’m surprised that you’re heading back to Redcliffe so soon.”

She grimaced. “A Tevinter magister, one of a cult called the Venatori, conveniently arrived there and offered protection to the mages. The timing is suspicious.” 

“You mean more suspicious than normal where my countrymen are concerned,” her companion interjected, coming up between them. When Delrin cocked an eyebrow at him, the mage grinned and winked. 

“Ser Delrin, this is Dorian Pavus. He’s acquainted with this magister that’s taken up residence in Redcliffe and has offered us his assistance.” The mage bowed with a flourish.

“Then you’re a magister?” Delrin asked, surprised. He wouldn’t have expected to find such a man here with the Inquisition. 

Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know it’s all the same to you Southerners, but no, I’m not.” He proceeded to describe the Magisterium and different classifications of mages in the Tevinter Imperium. Delrin found the differences intriguing, and it seemed Serena did too, as she asked as many questions as he did. The mage seemed to enjoy their interest, bestowing blinding smiles on each of them with each new question. It wasn’t a hardship listening to him, he had to admit. The man was charismatic, with a sharp wit and an outlandish sense of humor. He had them both chuckling at several points in their conversation and it was fascinating to hear about the differences between the Tevinter Chantry versus their Antrastian Chantry. 

“So in Tevinter we are the heretics and blasphemers.” Serena shook her head.

“Well, obviously! And I will no doubt be labeled as a corrupting influence on the sacred Herald of Andraste if I stay overlong in your company. Isn’t that right, Ser Templar?” Beneath the teasing tone a serious note was evident, for the first time in their conversation. Delrin paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before answering.

“Undoubtedly there will be those that say so. I do know from my own experiences that not all Templars are cut from the same cloth, so it stands to reason that not all Tevinters are either. I’d hope at least a few of our countrymen would think the same.”

“A reasonable Templar? What is this world coming to?” Another of those dazzling smiles was bestowed on him and with that Dorian fell back, starting up a conversation with the Qunari that had him roaring with laughter in short order. Delrin shook his head, bemused. He caught Serena staring at him, grinning. 

“Was he flirting with you or with me? I couldn’t tell,” she murmured, leaning in so as not to be overheard.

He grinned in return, enjoying the brief moment of closeness. “Both of us, I believe.”

She actually giggled. The Herald of Andraste, powerful mage and stunningly beautiful woman, had giggled at something he said. This time he couldn’t keep his grin from turning foolish.

Their days of traveling together passed quickly again. Serena had gotten more used to being addressed as Herald, he noticed, or at least had managed to school her face, as the twitches he’d noticed on their first trip together were much less frequent. When they reached the midpoint on the road where he was supposed to station his troop, he swallowed his disappointment as he wished her safe travels. He hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking on his part that she seemed reluctant to part ways too. 

Sister Nightingale had sent agents on ahead several days of the Herald’s party, Serena had told him. They would already be in place before her party they arrived in Redcliffe. She was a capable woman, Delrin told himself, and her companions were formidable as well. He didn’t have to worry about her. He kept repeating this as he watched her march away but it didn’t help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm imagining that Serena gave Delrin [this bow](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Bane_of_Red_Crossing). Sera's going to be so jealous!
> 
> Still trying to keep one chapter ahead for posting with the writing. I don't have 8 started yet, but 7 came together pretty quickly, so keep your fingers crossed for me!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first week of guard duty passed uneventfully. The occasional traveler or messenger that passed through had no news for them and there was no sign of any activity that bore investigation. Delrin found himself missing his bow again, as poor as it had been. Hunting would have given himself something to do. He and his troops ended up gathering herbs as they patrolled. At least the healers would benefit from their time. He supposed he should be grateful that they didn’t find themselves fighting bandits the whole week, and it did give him more time for practice drills.

Their first week of guard duty passed uneventfully. The occasional traveler or messenger that passed through had no news for them and there was no sign of any activity that bore investigation. Delrin found himself missing his bow again, as poor as it had been. Hunting would have given himself something to do. He and his troops ended up gathering herbs as they patrolled. At least the healers would benefit from their time. He supposed he should be grateful that they didn’t find themselves fighting bandits the whole week, and it did give him more time for practice drills. 

The second week began almost unmarked, the days starting to blend together, but late in the morning they heard hoofbeats approaching.

“It’s only one horseman,” Nicolas observed. “Maybe he’s fleeing from something?” The man almost sounded hopeful.

Delrin split his soldiers on either side of the road, cautioning them to be alert. When the rider came into sight and spotted them she reined her horse back to a walk.

“Corporal Delrin?” the woman called out, scanning them.

He stepped forward. “You’re looking for me?”

The scout continued. “Herald said to send word ahead. She’ll be traveling back this way with the mages from Redcliffe. She’s worried about reprisals against the mages, asking everyone to remain alert.”

“She’s bringing all the mages from Redcliffe to Haven?” That was from one of his mages. He sounded as incredulous as Delrin felt.

“King Alistair kicked them out. She’s offered them all sanctuary with the Inquisition,” said the scout.

Looking around at his men and women, it was plain to see they were all as shocked by this news as he. But if this is what the Herald had decreed then he’d do his part to make sure the mages got to Haven safely. He saluted the scout, who returned the gesture, then dug her heels into her horse’s flanks and took off down the road again.

“Alright, you heard her. Let’s make doubly certain there’s nothing out there lurking,” he cautioned his troops.

It wasn’t until the next afternoon that the first mages reached them. The procession was led by Inquisition forces, then a supply wagon, followed by clusters of men and women clad in robes and carrying staffs, with other occasional wagons interspersed along the line. Some of these mages were used to traveling but many weren’t faring well. Tower life didn’t promote hardiness and the most strenuous activities most mages engaged in were dragging stools and ladders around to reach high bookshelves. Even though some of these men and women had left their towers months previously, the majority of them had found a safe haven and stayed there. The strain of days of travel was showing in tired faces and frayed nerves. He saw hope too, though. The Herald’s offer had been unexpected, but also welcome, from what he overheard.

Still, Delrin couldn’t see why Serena had been worried. Anyone fool enough to attack a convoy of mages would find themselves frozen, roasted, crushed, and electrocuted before they had time to blink twice. Once the line passed, which took several hours, they ranged back towards Redcliffe, checking for stragglers. Aside from a pack of wild dogs that were trailing along behind looking for castoff scraps, they found nothing, and camp that night was quiet.

The next day was routine again. The wildlife, subdued yesterday with the passage of so many people, resumed their normal activities. There was no sign of the Herald’s party and Delrin decided she must have remained in the Hinterlands. Delrin caught himself wondering if she’d finish her business there before his tour ended at several points during the day and forced his attention back to the road.

Shortly after they broke camp the following morning they again heard hoofbeats. 

“Second train will be along in an hour or two,” the man told them, just slowing his horse enough to pass along the information as he galloped by.

So warned, his troop made ready. When the first wagon reached them this time Delrin saw why the Herald might be worried. While none of the first set of mages had been what he considered fit they'd still all been able bodied and in relatively good health. This group consisted of the elderly, the infirm, and the young. Most of them rode in carts. Each cart had one or two mages walking alongside and there was a larger escort of Inquisition forces accompanying them, but he could see how they might present a more tempting target for someone with an axe to grind.

They made their way backwards along the line, taking forays into the surrounding trees to make sure the region was still clear. When they reached the end of the caravan they found the Herald and her companions acting as rear guard. He fell in beside her while his men continued their patrol, instructing his soldiers to flank the road and follow at a distance.

Serena was walking stiffly, and he asked, concerned, “You weren’t injured, were you?”

She grimaced. “No, just saddle-sore.” She gestured to a horse whose reins had been tied to the wagon in front of them. “Master Dennet, Redcliffe’s horsemaster, gifted me with that beast, and I was riding it earlier, taking it up and down the line. It’s been years since I’ve been on a horse and I should have taken it easier.”

“It looks like your trip went well, though.” He gestured towards the caravan. 

“I guess you could say that. They aren’t going to be happy with me when I get back to Haven.” She grimaced, rubbing her temples as the most noticeable spasm he’d yet seen flashed across her cheek.

“Why wouldn’t they be happy? Wasn’t this what you were supposed to accomplish?”

“By offering them an alliance the way I did I’m sure I exceeded my authority. But I was not going to invite them to come to Haven and ask them to join us in our attempt to close the Breach as servants or Circle slaves. Except now I’ve recognized the mages as an equal political force in the name of the Inquisition.” She sighed. “At least with sending a bird ahead of me and coming in with the second train they’ll have time to get the worst of it out of their system.”

She looked more than saddle-sore, he decided. She looked exhausted and there were shadows behind her eyes that hadn’t been there on their way to Haven. She needed cheering up, he decided. 

“If they decide to give you a hard time of it, I’d advise you to tell them to stuff it,” he announced, deadpan.

It took a few moments for her to process what he’d said, and then she laughed in delight. “ ‘Stuff it?’ Is that the kind of diplomacy they teach in Templar school?” Her eyes twinkled and her face had relaxed, he was happy to see.

“Well, yes. There’s a whole chapter in the Templar initiate primer entitled ‘How Never to Advance in Rank in the Order.’ ‘Stuff it’ is expressly mentioned as something never to say when a superior officer refers to mages in a derogatory manner. Riveting reading. I highly recommend it.”

“I may have to borrow it from you when you return. Oh, before I forget!” She quickened her pace, patting the horse as she reached the wagon, pulling herself up into it. She rummaged around briefly, then jumped down, a leather case in her hands. “Here. I promised you a new bow.”

He tried to demurbut she shoved it at him and it was either take the case or let it drop to the ground. Once it was in his hands he tried to hand it back to her but she backed away from him, hands behind her back. 

“That’s rude you know, trying to return a gift before you’ve even opened it,” she teased.

He heard what sounded suspiciously like a chuckle and flushed. Looking around, he saw that Varric, Dorian and the Qunari were openly grinning at them. Seeker Pentaghast wasn’t watching them but the chuckle had had a distinctly female sound to it. 

Serena was smiling at him too. “You know, in direct sunlight, it shows when you blush. Your cheeks turn a bit purple.” 

He felt more blood rushing to his cheeks with her observation. “That’s not helping, you know.” 

“Well, you could redirect the conversation to something less embarrassing by actually looking to see what’s inside that case there.”

He resisted an urge to stick his tongue out at her as he worked open the buckles on the case. When he pulled the bow out he gasped in surprise. It was beyond beautiful. The wood was smooth as silk and engraving ran along the front edge. The grip was wrapped in leather and framed by a metal guard, also engraved. He was drawing it before he realized Serena had taken the case from him and as he pulled the string it flared in his grasp, magical fire sparking briefly beneath his fingers. 

“Breathe,” she reminded him and he realized he’d never released the breath he’d drawn when he first saw the bow. Before he could come up with any response Dorset jogged up, calling out, “Corporal, there’s a pack of wild mabari coming up behind us.” 

“How many?”

“Looks to be about nine or ten of them.”

He saluted to Serena. “We’d best take care of them before they reach the wagon train. Don’t want to spook the horses.”

Serena made as if to follow them, then paused. “We should stay with the train, in case some of them sneak past you. I’ll expect your report when you return to Haven.” She threw him the case and he stowed the bow, slinging it over his shoulder as he turned and ran back with Dorset to where his soldiers were waiting.

He toyed with the idea of trying to catch up with the caravan once they’d driven the mabari off, but regretfully decided that would be putting his personal desires over his duty. So at his order the troop resumed their patrol, making sure the road remained safe after the mages’ passing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was going so well, and then it wasn't. Not much else to say. So here's the next chapter. Hopefully #8 will start cooperating more.
> 
> I'm imagining Serana gave Delrin [this bow](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Bane_of_Red_Crossing), by the way. 
> 
> And have you seen this [awesome fan portrait of Ser Barris](http://nero749.deviantart.com/art/Delrin-Barris-631021172) yet?


	8. Chapter 8

The only eventful thing that occurred during the rest of their guard duty stint was Delrin’s first attempt at hunting with his new bow. A herd of rams had migrated close to the road, and when he decided to try for some fresh meat for their dinner the ram quite literally exploded from the hit. There was a shocked silence from his troop as pieces splattered down, and then they broke out in whoops and cheers. 

Dorset started chuckling, then began laughing in earnest. It took her a few tries to find her voice but finally she choked out, “Not only did you catch us dinner, ser, but you already cooked it too!” This set the rest of the troop off and if bandits had chosen that minute to attack they would have been wiped out. 

When they met up with their relief they found that they’d gotten the luckier stretch of the patrol. There had been several attacks on the second caravan of mages as they’d neared Haven, some malcontents banding together with bandits. There were no serious injuries on their side but the Inquisition troops had also not managed to clear out the attackers, so they were cautioned to be on their guard as they returned. Despite, or perhaps because of the care they took on their way back, they had no troubles on their journey.

He spent the entire trip back looking forward to seeing Serena again but Haven was a madhouse when he arrived. The procurement officers were tearing their hair out trying to accommodate all the mages. They’d just adjusted to the presence of a band of mercenaries and the new influx of bodies was too much too soon. There were grumblings everywhere about both. The general consensus seemed to be that hiring the mercenaries was a waste of time and money but Delrin was of a different mind. It was the most poorly kept secret in Thedas that mercenary bands recruited apostate mages. Too many of the people here now had no idea how to interact with mages without ruffling feathers on either side and the Chargers were voices of reason in the flood of confusion. 

Even with their presence it seemed to Delrin that he spent his entire rest day mediating squabbles, and his soldiers went mostly unsupervised for several days afterwards because he spent so much time trying to show other officers how to integrate the new mages into their squads and consulting with his mages on how to counsel the other mages on fitting in as well. 

For the first time he realized how few squads had mages assigned to them, and also realized just how lucky he’d been to have Nicolas assigned under his command. The majority of the Inquisition troops seemed to view their mages with suspicion and fear and received both back in kind. They all spent so much time watching each other that they had little concentration to spare. Finally in desperation, he split up his troops, sending them in twos and threes to other detachments to help. It didn’t occur to him that he might have overstepped his authority until he was told that Commander Cullen was looking for him.

 _So much for my first command_ , he thought, and went in search of the Commander. Might as well get it over with. 

It didn’t take long. Commander Cullen was conferring with Sister Nightingale over some scout reports just outside the Chantry. He waited for them to finish, forcing himself not to fidget. He was expecting a scolding and discipline, thanking the Maker for the snow that kept him from sweating. He was surprised when instead he was greeted with a smile.

“Ser Delrin, I wanted to thank you personally for your efforts in integrating our new allies into our forces. It’s been one less thing I’ve had to deal with the last few days,” the Commander told him. Sister Nightingale nodded to him as well as she left. The Commander didn’t notice the wave of relief that passed over him, but he was sure she did, as she winked at him in passing.

“Ah, no need to thank you, sir. Just doing my duty.” Breathe. Just keep breathing, he told himself, trying to reset his brain after being prepared for a different reception.

“Thanks are indeed due to you, Corporal. There are few who have stepped forward as you have. The Herald speaks highly of you as well.” He stopped himself just short of smiling foolishly at this. Commander Cullen continued. “I know you were scheduled to go back out on patrol but I think your talents are better put to use here, helping organize our efforts against closing the Breach. Sister Nightingale, Seeker Pentaghast and I have put together a roster, and we’d like your input,” he concluded. Delrin managed to nod, swallowing down the last bit of panic, and stepped forward, leaning over the table where sheets of parchment were scattered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Don’t look nervous. Don’t look nervous._ Delrin repeated this in his head over and over as he looked out over the assembled crowd, still self-conscious about the new Lieutenant insignia on his armor, the Commander and the Herald standing beside him.

On his left stood The Iron Bull’s Chargers. In the middle were three hundred soldiers, fidgeting and staring sideways at each other. On his right fifty mages milled around, Senior Enchanter Fiona and First Enchanter Vivienne out in front. Aside from these two, the mages were for the most part looking at their feet. There was an undercurrent of mutters and whispers as they waited and his stomach gave a lurch as he realized that Commander Cullen and Serena weren’t going to start off. They were deferring to him, waiting for him to speak. Maker preserve him. 

He steeled himself, stepping forward, and all eyes fixed on him. Clearing his throat, he summoned his best drill sergeant voice projecting out over the crowd. 

“Soldiers, how many of you are afraid that these mages are going to go all bumpy and bubbly and try to kill you?” he asked as he raised his hand. There were shocked gasps from the right, which he ignored. Many of the soldiers blanched and there was an imperceptible shift away from the mages. A few hands tentatively bobbed up, then dropped again as their owners realized they were the minority.

“Thank you for your honesty, soldiers. The truth is, we’re all practically indoctrinated to believe this. And it’s not just those of us without magic. Mages,” he turned to the right. “How many of you are afraid you’ll become abominations?” First Enchanter Fiona raised her hand. First Enchanter Vivienne raised her eyebrow at the other woman, shaking her head. One by one, over half the mages joined Fiona in the gesture. 

Delrin nodded. “Okay, how many of you want to become an abomination?” The hands fell faster than leaves in an autumn storm.

He nodded, turned back to the soldiers. “How many of you would like to be able to return home and live out your lives with your family in safety and peace?” As he raised his hand, every single one of the three hundred woman and men joined him. He turned back to the mages. “And how many of you would like to have a home and a family, where you could return to live safely and in peace?” The mages were tentative again in raising their hands but they too were unanimous. He looked back and forth between the two groups and they were doing the same, seeing themselves all united, and for the same reason. 

“So here we are,” Delrin continued, “three hundred seventy five people, of different races, talents, and skills, all in agreement, all wishing for one simple thing. And it’s going to take a lot of work to get us all there but I believe it can be done. There are a lot of things keeping us from that and the first one we’ve got to deal with is this.” He pointed and, and they all turned, looking towards the Breach. “We’re going to spend the next few weeks learning how to work together so we can close the Breach and start healing the land. Are you with me?” A few ragged cheers greeted him and he shouted back. “I can’t hear you. Are you with me?” This time the cheers rang out, loud and strong. He let them die down, grinning. 

Commander Cullen stepped forward. “In two days’ time you’ll be escorting the Herald to the Fallow Mire. The land is overrun with undead and some of our fellow soldiers have been captured by Avvar. It’ll be your training grounds. Make sure to get a good night’s sleep tonight, as tomorrow’s going to be busy. Dismissed.”

The soldiers and mages drifted away, heading towards their encampments and dinner. Many of them looked back as they left so Delrin and Cullen and Serena stayed in place until they’d all dispersed. 

The troops may have gotten a good night’s sleep, but Cullen and Delrin did not. They stayed up late going over rosters and assignments, breaking the troop up into squads of fifteen soldiers and two mages, solidifying the command structure. It was after midnight when they dispersed and Delrin was up again with the dawn, reviewing lists with the requisitions officers.

Haven was chaos again that day, but it was an organized chaos, a familiar one, as supplies were assembled and soldiers fell in. Cullen stepped back, stating again that was his command, offering advice when asked but otherwise letting Delrin make the plans and decisions. He kept waiting any second now to wake up from this dream but he hadn’t yet done so when he gave the signal to ride out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The less said about the Fallow Mire the better. It was cold and muddy and overrun with walking corpses. The few skirmishes they had with Avvar were a welcome relief from the undead. He could see the mages and soldiers coming together with each encounter, and there were several rifts, so the mages could also practice augmenting the Herald’s mark.

The less said about the Fallow Mire the better. It was cold and muddy and overrun with walking corpses. The few skirmishes they had with Avvar were a welcome relief from the undead. He could see the mages and soldiers coming together with each encounter, and there were several rifts, so the mages could also practice augmenting the Herald’s mark. 

After the first rift he caught Serena rubbing her palm, a quizzical expression on her face. “It feels like being at the base of a waterfall. I don’t know if I’m the water or the rocks the water hits, though.” He didn’t know if the mages got better at augmenting or if Serena just became used to the experience, but with each rift her discomfort seemed to grow less.

For the most part Delrin stayed at their initial camp while the Herald ranged through the territory. He assigned her troops on a rotating basis and every few days she’d return, soggy but cheerful. They fell into the habit of sharing their meals together as she reviewed what they’d found. The conversation, at least, was good.

“Ugh,” Serena complained after the first bite. “The smell gets into everything. Your hair, your clothes, your food.” 

“It does, yes,” Delrin agreed. “And mold has started growing everywhere. In my rations. In my bedroll. In my socks. I’m sure mold would’ve started growing in my hair if I didn’t shave my head.” She giggled and he grinned in return, then continued. “There’s one advantage, though. This has had the benefit of bringing everyone together in misery.” He gestured to the fires scattered around the main encampment. “Our soldiers are quickly learning what the mercenaries already knew – mages make campaigns less miserable. Just their keeping the campfires burning has done marvels for morale.”

“Fire is good. I’ll remember that. Ice is not much in demand out here for some reason.” She shrugged, leaning in to warm her hands at the flames.

“Not even for freezing the water when the undead are standing in it?” he asked.

“That only works for so long and it chills the soldiers more than it seems to help the fighting, I’m afraid,” she replied. “Solas has started teaching me some lightning spells but that’s even worse when there’s so much water around.” She surprised a full-blown laugh out of him when she made buzzing noises and mimed her hair standing on end. 

It took two weeks before Serena declared herself satisfied that the area was cleared. They lost a handful of soldiers in the fighting and one mage, swarmed by a horde of undead rising out of the shallow waters and overcome before help could reach her. While unfortunate, the losses did seem to bring their troops that much closer and their teamwork improved noticeably every day.

As they supervised the preparations for their return to Haven he noticed a twitching in Serena’s cheek, the first time he’d noticed her showing this sign of stress for weeks. He started to reach out, stopped himself before raising his hand but a few inches. He wanted with his whole heart to trace her scar with his fingers and quiet the spasms and had to content himself with words instead.

“We’re as ready as we can be. The longer we wait to try make our attempt on the Breach, the farther its influence may spread,” he reassured her.

“Am I that obvious?” she asked.

“Well, only if someone is watching you more closely than most people,” he said, and was rewarded him with a smile. 

“Are you saying you’ve been watching me closely, Ser Delrin?” 

“Well, watching people, that’s what officers do, you know.”

“We seem to have neglected large helmets as an accessory to the Inquisition arms. Sad, really. I’ll ask Commander Cullen about that when we return. Wouldn’t want you to get caught out if you insist on keeping on with that watching thing. Might make us look bad.” 

The fact that she remembered their first conversation as thoroughly as he chased the rest of the cold from his extremities.

By all accounts their trip back to Haven was uneventful. There were no attacks, no crises, not even any bad weather. But the journey was notable to Delrin for Serena kept up the pattern they’d begun in the Mires and shared his campfire every evening. He couldn’t decide if he preferred her to sit across the fire from him so he could watch the expressions play across her face or next to him, which meant there would be the occasional brush of shoulders or touch of hands. He dared, the night before they reached Haven, to clasp her hand and raise it to his lips before they retired to their tents. She squeezed his hand in return and graced him with another of her dazzling smiles.

Commander Cullen was waiting for their reports when they arrived and Dorset and Nicolas saw to the troops while Serena and Delrin made their way to his tent. As they stood side by side, the back of her hand brushed his more than accident could account for. He schooled his expression when the Commander cocked an eyebrow at him, tamping down on the smiles.

It was decided that the sooner they moved to close the Breach the better, so they set the date two days hence. 

Those two days passed in a blur and then they were marching. Serena had described the devastation at the Temple of Sacred Ashes but no mere telling could truly prepare a person for the sight. At least the charred corpses she’d mentioned had been removed, the remains given the proper ceremonies and words. Wind whistled through the ruins and the Breach bathed everything in a sickly green glow.

There were demons, of course, and the soldiers held them back while the Herald focused on the Breach. He lost track of time and couldn’t have said whether minutes or hours passed, but in the end the Breach flared and crackled one final time before dissipating in a soundless burst that still made Delrin’s ears ring. 

There was silence for a moment and then cheers rang out across the field. The cheers quickly turned into backslapping and hugs as the import of what they’d accomplished set in. Delrin found himself swinging Serena around as they both laughed. 

Spirits were high as they made their way back to Haven and even before they found the Commander to report the celebrating had already begun. They parted at the stairs. He needed to see to his troops and she said something about checking with Seeker Pentaghast. By the time he finished it was dusk and all of Haven was alight with fires and music and dancing.

How Serena found him he didn’t know, but he didn’t resist as she dragged him towards one of the fires and the dancing there. Oh how he loved to see her laugh, and he spun her around in the steps of the dance until they were both staggering and gasping for breath. He pulled her away, finding a quiet spot, a rock under a tree at the edges of the clearing, and she leaned into him as they sat, head resting on his shoulder as their breathing quieted. His arm fit quite naturally around her waist and she held his other hand with both of hers and she turned in towards him, and oh, how her eyes shone in the starlight. He bent down slightly, and she raised her lips to meet his and then they drew apart, startled, as warning bells began to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I've left you with the most horrid cliffhanger. Don't hate me! I was also trying to capture the feel of the cut scene at the end there.
> 
> Author's note: There were only two rifts in the Fallow Mires, but pulling an "artistic license" thing with this one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within a few minutes Delrin had his troop assembled. Dorset had rounded up his armor and weapons and helped him into it and Nicolas had brought his sword and shield, as well as the bow Serena had given him. He wasn’t the only one whose armor was hastily donned, and more than a few of his soldiers showed signs of the drinking they’d been doing only moments before, but there was nothing to be done about it. They were all looking to him, faces pale, weapons clenched, and he knew he had to say something or they’d break at the first encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all the new subscriptions! Thank you for your support! It's good to see more people who appreciate Ser Cutiepie.

Delrin helped Serena push her way through to the gate, meeting up with Commander Cullen and Seeker Pentaghast at the stairs.

“Forces approaching! To arms!” the commander was calling out as they approached. 

They could see torches on the mountain approaches – it looked like a blanket of stars.

“Under what banner?” Ambassador Montilyet was asking as they approached.

“None,” the Commander replied.

“None?” she repeated, shocked, and Cullen nodded in response.

They all started when there was a pounding at the gate.

“I can’t come in unless you open!” a voice called from the other side. 

At a nod from Serena, the gate was opened, just in time to see a giant man in spiked armor fall. Behind him stood a young lad, face hidden behind a lopsided hat.

“I’m Cole,” the boy said. “I came to warn you! People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know,” he said.

“What is this? What’s going on?” Serena demanded.

“The Templars are coming to kill you,” he replied.

Delrin lost the rest of the conversation after that, his head spinning. Looking out, he could just start to pick out bodies beneath the approaching torches. The familiar sigil on shields proved the truth of the boy’s words.

“Oh, Maker preserve us,” he muttered, and the ambassador murmured an agreement. As they watched, a darkspawn materialized on a promontory above them, a man in armor beside him, and Cullen swore.

“I know that man. But the Elder One …” His voice trailed off.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole said.

“Cullen, give me a plan. Anything,” Serena demanded. They quickly determined that they would attempt to hold back the forces and give their people time to retreat to the Chantry, while using the trebuchets to try to take out the main body of the forces before they reached the village.

Within a few minutes Delrin had his troop assembled. Dorset had rounded up his armor and weapons and helped him into it and Nicolas had brought his sword and shield, as well as the bow Serena had given him. He wasn’t the only one whose armor was hastily donned, and more than a few of his soldiers showed signs of the drinking they’d been doing only moments before, but there was nothing to be done about it. They were all looking to him, faces pale, weapons clenched, and he knew he had to say something or they’d break at the first encounter.

“Alright, this is hard, I know. I know I’m going to recognize faces when we go back out there, as will some of you. Those are Templars out there, and I’m going to find myself fighting men and women that I used to count on to guard my back, and so will some of you. We used to train, eat, and bunk with these people every day. I’m going to see comrades that saved my life or twice. But we’re going to have to recognize that the people we once knew are now trying to kill us and those we are sworn to protect.” He looked around, meeting eyes in the crowd around him. There were more than when he started, he realized. His voice had carried further than he’d thought and as he’d spoken others had drifted closer. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, as he realized the crowd had more than doubled and they’d all been listening to him. He had a moment of panic and then forced himself to continue. “Whatever this Elder One is, they’ve chosen to follow him, and have declared themselves our enemy by doing so. If you can’t accept that, you’re dead, and every one of our deaths leaves these people more vulnerable.” 

He was shocked and relieved when he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Commander Cullen’s voice beside him. “We took an oath to protect the people of Thedas. Sir Delrin is right. Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can. Mages! You have sanction to engage them! Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!”

Delrin found himself cheering with the rest as they moved forward, preparing to engage.

The fight was like nothing else he’d previously experienced. The Templars they encountered were superhuman in strength and their eyes glowed red. Some of them were deformed, almost like Abominations, with red crystals growing out of their skins. Fighting them was almost like battling a rage demon – they used none of their Templar abilities, just kept battering away at the Inquisition forces until they were cut down. It was bloody, exhausting work, but they bought the time needed, and Delrin turned as the red Templar in front of him fell and saw the trebuchets fire, bringing the side of the mountain down on the approaching force. Cheers started to rise up around him, only to turn to screams as a dragon descended upon Haven, destroying one of the trebuchets with a blast of fiery breath and turning Haven into an inferno.

His troop, what was left of it, retreated to the gates again. He didn’t have time for a headcount but it seemed like he’d lost a third of his soldiers in the brief attack. 

Serena was there, and unhurt, and his heart unclenched at the sight. He directed his troops up and in, telling them to station themselves in front of the Chantry, and waited as the last stragglers ran through, helping Cullen close the gates.

Some of the attacking forces had made it to Haven ahead of the avalanche and he found himself fighting back to back with Seeker Pentaghast as they helped clear the area as Serena and Varric provided covering fire, freeing trapped people from buildings damaged in the dragon’s strafing run. One of the monstrosities started to charge them and was blindsided as The Iron Bull plowed into him, throwing it back onto the palisade with bone-crunching force. The giant merc saluted them and charged off again, roaring and swinging his huge maul.

As they mounted the stairs to the Chantry an elderly man in vestments was waving the stragglers in. As they approached, he started to collapse, clutching his gut, and the boy with the hat was suddenly there at his side, supporting him.

“He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He is going to die,” the boy said, in a conversational tone.

“What a charming boy,” the man said, as the boy helped him down onto a pallet.

The Chantry was overrun, people sprawled across the floor. His troop, what was left of it, was crowded into one corner. They’d suffered even more losses between the gate and the Chantry doors, it looked like. There were some unfamiliar faces mixed in, soldiers from other units that had attached themselves to his troops, and a few familiar as well – Hugh and Aubrie stood next to Dorset. He instructed them to get what few moments of rest they could and headed back to where the Commander and Serena were talking with the boy. Cole. He said his name was Cole, Delrin remembered. 

As he neared he heard the Commander say, “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

Delrin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We’re overrun,” he interjected. “To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven.”

“We’re dying, but we can decide how,” Cullen responded. “Many don’t get that choice.”

It was Cole’s turn to interrupt. “Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

There was a path, it seemed, a secret path out of the Chantry and up through the mountains. They could evacuate everyone through it, given enough time.

He knew. He knew even before she spoke that she would volunteer. She’d buy them the time they needed. He wanted to shout at her, to tell her no, but knew it would do no good. The Commander had come to the same conclusion, because he nodded, and then began calling for people to follow the Chancellor to safety. He hesitated, and she saw all the things he wanted to say in his eyes. She rushed forward and threw her arms around him, kissing him briefly, then turned and left. Her companions followed, both Dorian and Bull clapping him on the shoulders as they passed.

When the doors closed behind them he turned to the commander. “I’ll stay, bring up the rear,” he volunteered and received a nod of thanks. He assembled a squad of volunteers and sent the rest of his troops to escort the evacuees. The Chantry emptied quickly and he took up the rear as his soldiers filed out the back and onto the trail.

It took surprisingly little time to clear the valley. When he reached the tree line Cullen was waiting.

“Is that the last of us?” Cullen asked, and he nodded. “We need to signal the Herald that we’re clear.”

“I can do it, ser.” Delrin drew his bow, nocked an arrow and let fly. It shot through the air, burning bright in the night sky. Shortly thereafter they saw another ball of fire arc towards the mountains, hitting the slope and exploding. This avalanche dwarfed the previous and as they watched Haven disappeared under a thunderous mass of ice and snow.

His throat tight and his eyes prickling, he turned and followed Cullen up the trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger - I'm a horrid horrid person.
> 
> I loved the idea of Delrin being the one to send the all-clear signal with the bow Serena gave him, though. 
> 
> I'd say the writing's coming along, but the last time I got optimistic about it I didn't up date this fic for a few months, so I'm going to keep my mouth shut.
> 
> I also need to come up with a new nickname for Varric to use. In previous fics he was 'Ser Surname,' but since I've got everyone calling him Delrin instead of Barris here, that won't work. Any suggestions? (And no, I do no think Varric would actually call him 'Ser Cutiepie'!)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In gameplay, it bothers me that the cutscenes between Haven and Skyhold show a real camp. The Inquisition forces just barely evacuated Haven with what they could carry on their backs. Where did all this stuff come from? So I'm paring it down a bit here.

The next hours were a blur, plodding uphill through snowdrifts. To make it worse, more snow started falling from the sky as they walked, and the wind picked up. His armor was biting cold and he should be worrying about frostbite, he knew, but there were other things that concerned him more. The absence of a pair of topaz eyes and a blazing smile, the brief touch of lips on his, stayed with him, and it wasn’t just the wind that brought tears to his eyes.  


Those that had lead the way had set up stations along the path, fires burning as a beacon for those that followed. As Delrin and Cullen reached each, those who’d stayed to keep the fire going joined them, leaving the fires to burn themselves out behind them. At each fire, before they moved on, they paused long enough to thaw out, taking the worst of the chill from their toes and their armor. At one of the stations someone had left a kettle and a strong tea was brewing. They drained the dregs, the bitter brew giving them a measure of strength, cooled the kettle in the snow and Cullen shouldered it before they continued.

When they finally reached the end of the trail where it spilled out into a shallow valley, he blinked in startlement. There was the remains of a village here, buildings in disrepair but many still with at least partial roofs. The evacuees were working to set up a makeshift camp, propping up blankets on poles to provide more cover between the huts, and some of the soldiers were lashing together crude frameworks for cots. He found his troops scattered throughout, helping where needed. They needed no direction from him so he pitched in alongside them, assisting wherever there was a demand.

He didn’t know how late it was when they finished. The valley was now a patchwork, dark patches of people gathered around fires, standing out against the white snow. A few kettles had survived and a rough porridge was being dished out. Bowls and utensils were scarce, even after scavenging through the ruins, so they were passed from hand to hand. He forced some down, not tasting it, and handed the bowl to the next in line.

He was exhausted but couldn’t bring himself to find a place to rest. He wandered through camp, finding himself back at the edge of the valley, looking back towards Haven. Cullen was there too, pacing back and forth. Occasionally a runner would come to him with a question but otherwise they were the only two here. He joined in the pacing, peering down at the trail they’d left behind him. Several times it seemed that Cullen was about to speak, but each time he felt silent. 

He paced, and he prayed. The Chant was a comfort, and in between verses he pled with all his heart for the Maker to keep her safe, to bring her back to him. At one point he must have begun speaking out loud because he realized Cullen was reciting along with him.

_Then the Maker said:_  
_To you, My second-born, I grant this gift:_  
_In your heart shall burn_  
_An unquenchable flame_  
_All-consuming, and never satisfied._  
_From the Fade I crafted you,_  
_And to the Fade you shall return_  
_Each night in dreams_  
_That you may always remember Me._

His voice broke at that and he couldn’t continue. He felt Cullen’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance, then withdrawn as one of Sister Nightingale’s scouts came up to them then. The woman had a list in her hands, the numbers of their surviving troops. Delrin knew he should be paying attention but he was distracted by a movement just at the edge of visibility. Was that …? He peered down the slope, wiped his eyes, and looked again. It was!

“Look! It’s her!” he cried out, and Cullen turned, shoving the reports unceremoniously into the scout’s arms.

“Thank the Maker!” the Commander cried. The two of them forced their way through the snow to her and Delrin caught her just as she collapsed. She was shivering and her lips were blue. He cursed his armor, which would leach even more warmth from her body. 

“We need blankets!” he called out as he staggered back towards the camp. A rush of bodies met him and he relinquished her to another set of arms. They swaddled her in wool and hustled her into one of the few tents that had been salvaged. Healers converged on the tent and he recognized Kya among them. The flap fell and he was back to pacing again, back and forth outside the tent as they treated her. 

After a bit Kya poked her nose out, looking around. When she saw him she scurried over, leaned in and whispered, “She’ll be alright, ser. Bit of frostbite, but nothing serious. I’m supposed to only tell the Commander, but I thought you’d should know,” and then hurried away.

Delrin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and dizziness struck. He leaned over, hands on his knees, taking deep breaths, letting the relief wash through him. She had survived. She was alive.

More time passed. Before his legs gave out he found a stump, dragged it over to the fire. Healers had been coming in and out and a Reverend Mother had entered a while ago. He kept count and eventually all the healers had left and the Reverend Mother remained. When she came out, he jumped to his feet, and she smiled at him.

“You are Delrin, yes?” When he nodded, she gestured to the tent. “She is asking for you.”

She stood aside as he entered, letting the flap close behind them and moving to a stool in the corner of the tent. Constrained by her presence, he didn’t rush to Serena’s side. She was bundled in blankets, except for her feet, which were bandaged and uncovered. A brazier chased away the chill and while she still looked tired, her face was flushed with warmth, her lips rich with color. And oh, her smile, that he never thought to see again. A hand wormed out from beneath the covers and she pointed to another stool, set next to her cot, and he settled himself onto it, reaching out to wrap his fingers around hers.

Words warred with the lump that had settled in his throat. Finally he managed to choke something out. “So, first you walk out of the Breach and now you survive an avalanche. I’m beginning to suspect you’re part cat.” It was a weak attempt at a joke and her laughter was weak as well. Their eyes met and she held his gaze. “Serena,” he breathed, and his voice broke again. 

“I’m here,” she answered. “I’m here.” She shifted and winced. “Well, most of me is. I’m minus a few toes, they tell me. But that means at least if those silly pointed slippers come back in style again I’ll be able to fit into them now.”

“Such devotion to fashion.” The joke came easier this time, as did her laughter. He dared again to bring her hand to his lips and the Reverend Mother cleared her throat behind him. Hidden from her view, Serena rolled her eyes and made a face, which brought forth another snort of laughter from Delrin, but he let her hand drop back down to the covers.

They stayed like this, her hand clasped in his, his fingers stroking the back of her hand, until her eyes closed and her breathing slowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they'll finally get to Skyhold in Chapter 12. Hooray! These last three chapters came along nicely, but the next one isn't cooperating, so it may be a bit before I post in this story again. Hello to all the new subscribers - lovely to see you!


	12. Chapter 12

When the healers returned they chased Delrin out, claiming Serena needed undisturbed rest. The Reverend Mother, though, (Giselle, she named herself), despite her earlier seeming disapproval went out of her way to keep him informed of her status and allowed him back into the tent each time after the healers left.

He didn’t spend every waking moment at Serena’s side, although he was loathe to leave her, but there was too much that needed attention in camp. The Seeker, the Commander, Sister Nightingale and Ambassador Montilyet spent the entirety of the next two days arguing over what should come next, it seemed, so he helped coordinate the soldiers’ efforts, working with one of the lead scouts, a perky dwarf named Harding. Between the two of them they organized hunting and gathering expeditions, bringing in fresh meat and herbs both for cooking and healing. They also sent a small troop back to the valley to see if there was anything left in Haven to be salvaged after the avalanche.

Deadwood was gathered in for the fires and some of it was also fashioned into rough platters and bowls. There were some stores of seeds and grains found in one of the old buildings, which augmented their meals as well.

His estimation of the losses suffered by his troop had been accurate. They’d lost over a third of their number, mainly on the soldiers’ side. The mages had fared well, since the attacking red Templars hadn’t been utilizing their abilities, but the soldiers had suffered under their enhanced strength and resistance to pain.

He found he was receiving constant updates as to Serena’s progress and well-being when he was not at her side, Kya or one of the healers seeking him out if he had been away for more than a few hours. He still missed when she left her tent for the first time. The first he knew that anything unusual was happening was when the sound of singing reached him. Frowning, he made his way towards the source, but by the time he reached it the crowd had broken up. 

Mother Giselle saw him approach Serena’s tent, and shook her head. “She has gone off with the apostate elf. They took the path there,” and she pointed. Her expression said louder than any words could what she thought of this turn of events.

“Did the healers release her?” Delrin asked, and if she had been anyone other than a Reverend Mother, he would have described her expression as a “prune face.” As that would have been disrespectful in this case, he schooled himself to think of her countenance as merely disapproving.

“They did not know she had left her tent until she was already gone. I do not think the elf will let her come to harm, but perhaps you could see that he does not keep her out overlong?” she suggested.

Warring between his genuine worry and not wanting to come across as overprotective, Delrin hesitated just long enough to be found. There was a disagreement about allocation of resources between the quartermaster and his sergeants. By the time he had them settled, neither happy but willing to work with the compromise he suggested, he saw Serena and Solas approaching. 

She was walking slowly, her feet stuffed into overlarge boots to accommodate the bandages the healers still insisted she wear, but the circles were gone from under her eyes and there was color in her cheeks again, and when she saw him she smiled. It was only the watching eyes that kept him in place and watching her approach but he wanted with all his heart to run to her, to pick her up and swing her around and hear her laugh.

When they reached the tent Solas nodded to him and kept going. Serena ignored Mother Giselle’s expression and tucked her arm through Delrin’s, trying to pull him along with her back up the trail she had just come down.

“Should you be up? Your feet,” he started to protest, but she shushed him.

“After all the effort they put into healing me, I’d better be fine. They’re just being overly cautious with their Herald.” Her nose scrunched in a most adorable fashion when she was annoyed and when she tugged on his arm this time he gave in, shrugging in apology at Mother Giselle when she glared at them.

The trail was short and led to a snow-filled clearing, eerily lit by a single torch, glowing with magic blue flame, and marred only by the footprints Serena and Solas had left just minutes before. 

“Solas says there’s a place we can go, an old fortress he’s seen in the Fade,” she said as they stopped. “We should be safe there while we recover from …” She trailed off, shivered, from the cold or memories he couldn’t say, but he drew her in close, wrapping her up in his arms. 

“That’s good news, yes?” he asked, partly to distract her from her memories but mainly to hear her voice again when just a few days ago he thought she’d been lost. 

She nodded, but instead of replying she snuggled in closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. He could live with that, he decided, as she tucked her head in under his chin, warmth spreading through him as he felt her chest rise and fall against his.

“I should get back, let people know we should prepare to move out, that we have someplace to go” she said after a few moments. But she made no move to do so, instead tightening her hold around his waist. There would be people looking for the both of them, he was sure, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention this. She’d just saved the Inquisition. She could afford a few moments respite, he told himself. The fact that she chose to do so in his arms, her hair soft against his cheek, wasn’t affecting his decision, not at all. 

When she stirred, he steeled himself to let her go, but instead she reached up, cupping his cheek in her palm. His breath caught as she traced his cheekbone with her thumb and he found himself leaning into her caress. He hadn’t let himself think of her brief, desperate kiss at Haven but now as she tilted her head and he leaned down to meet her he let himself remember just how warm her lips were as they brushed against his.

Eventually they both let themselves remember their duties and she led the way back down to camp. Mother Giselle gave them both a sharp look when they returned but her expression softened somewhat when she took in their clasped hands. 

He escorted her to the Commander and hovered in the background when she announced that they would break camp in the morning. 

It was not the next morning, or the morning after that they set out, however. The healers insisted that Serena spend more time recovering, and besides their scouts hadn’t returned from Haven yet. It proved to be worth the wait when they did appear, as they had managed to retrieve some pack druffalo and additional supplies, which made the journey much less arduous than it could have been.

They were several days trekking through the mountains. Serena appeared to know exactly where they were going but because he knew to watch Delrin caught her taking directions from Solas as they traveled. 

Late one afternoon he watched as she crested another rise and stopped, Solas at her side. He and Commander Cullen struggled up the rocky slope to them and saw in the distance a great stone fortress silhouetted against the skyline.

“Skyhold,” Solas said, and Serena smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got them to Skyhold! Hooray!
> 
> As a side note, when I opened this up to work on tonight, I found this note I'd left for myself the last time I was writing:
> 
> “An you should srsly review everything written now like hella because you are totally drunk writing.“
> 
> It seems okay when sober, though, so I think I'm okay.


	13. Chapter 13

It took them another two days to reach the fortress but seeing it ahead gave them hope. Delrin insisted to be one of the first to enter, with a small group of scouts and soldiers, to make sure there were no dangerous animals nesting in the ruins before the bulk of their forces settled inside its walls. 

The fortress was eerie. Although they were high in the mountains and surrounded by snowy peaks there was grass growing up through the stones in the courtyard and the battlements were clear of ice. Despite this, they were all glad to have shelter, and a place to settle and regroup.

There were holes in many of the ceilings but the walls were intact and strong. With no immediate danger except from the elements, Delrin found himself leading his soldiers out on hunting and gathering expeditions. Food was still scarce and they also needed firewood as well as lumber for repairs, or at least for the first few days, that is. Within a week of their arrival people started trickling in, bringing with them food and supplies, as well as skilled hands to aid in the repairs. 

Serena worked with the mages, aiding in clearing the debris from the courtyard. It sent shivers down his spine whenever he saw a group of them working together to raise huge stones back into place on the battlements, old prejudices he’d thought buried rising up from the depths of his subconscious. He wasn’t the only one with this reaction, he could tell, so he made every effort to hide it, instead thanking the mages whenever possible and remarking to whoever was near how much work their talents were contributing to the reclamation of the keep. He didn’t know how much of a difference he made overall but turning and seeing Serena smile after one of these occasions was reward enough.

She’d appear at his side at completely random times, leading him off to show him some new wonder she’d discovered. First there were the steps that lead down to the waterfall that spewed out of the rock at the back of the peak on which the keep was built. Then there were another set of steps leading down from the main hall to a small library, shrouded with cobwebs and sconces coated in candlewax, with a few tomes still on the shelves, remarkably untouched despite their age. They braved the stairs leading up to the towers, hugging the walls as they climbed, grasping each other’s hand the whole way, and wondered at the view from the balconies. 

She described their plans for the keep as they explored.

“They’re going to refurbish this tower for the mages. We need a place where we can begin to study again.” “Harritt will set up his forge down here.” “Leliana’s staked claim to this tower, she says it’s perfect for her birds.” “Josephine wants to put me up here. I can’t imagine climbing all these stairs every day. But oh, the view!”

He never knew when to expect her and never had any luck himself in finding her when he had a spare minute. This was especially vexing today, as he’d found something he wanted to show her for a change, a statue in the corner of the overgrown garden. As he emerged from the armory after following a false lead he noticed a crowd forming in the courtyard before the stairs to the main hall. 

“Lieutenant Delrin!” 

He turned at the hail, and saw Nicolas jogging towards him.

“Orders from the Commander, ser. We’re supposed to assemble in the courtyard.”

Most of his troop was already there. Matter of fact, it seemed that the entirety of the population of Skyhold was milling about. 

“What’s this about, Nicolas?” he asked. 

“What? You didn’t hear? They’re making the Herald the Inquisitor!”

“They’re what?” he exclaimed, but his words were lost in the crowd, as people began calling out.

“Look, it’s the Herald!”

“There she is!”

People start to point and he turned, following their fingers up to where Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Nightingale now stood at the top of the stairs, Serena between them. As they watched, the spymaster held a sword out to Serena. She hesitated, then took the sword, holding it up, uncertainly at first, but then straightening, holding it up, staring at the blade. 

“Have the people been told?” Seeker Pentaghast called out.

Ambassador Montilyet appeared from the crowd. “They have!” she replied. “And soon the world.”

“Commander, will they follow?” the Seeker asked.

Commander Cullen’s moved forward to stand next to the Ambassador. “Inquisition! Will you follow?” 

The courtyard echoed with cheers and Delrin found himself adding his voice to theirs.

“Will you fight? Will we triumph?” Cullen drew his sword, lifting it up to Serena where she stood above the crowd. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”

Serena returned the gesture, raising the sword above her head, and the cheers redoubled.

It wasn’t until late the next afternoon that he saw her again but he used the time well, calling in a few favors. As usual, she materialized at his elbow, tucking her arm through his and pulling at him. This time, though, he took the lead. The gardens had been invaded, the statue he’d wanted to discover with her cleared, but he’d found a quiet spot on the roof above the armory, and stashed a few things there. 

She laughed in delight when he spread out a blanket and produced a small basket with a flourish.

“Where on earth did you get this?” she asked as he dug the cork out of the ancient bottle with his dagger.

“Managed to find some volunteers to help Herritt get his forge set up ahead of schedule. He found this in a crate in the corner down there. No goblets, though, I’m afraid,” he apologized, and took a swallow straight from the bottle. He’d expected wine and was surprised to discover it was a strong brandy instead. Coughing, he handed the bottle over. “It’s aged well,” he said, and she laughed. Maker, how he loved to see her laugh.

As she took a drink, he pulled out the rest of his bounty, a wedge of cheese and a loaf of bread. They ate and drank in companionable silence for a bit. 

“So. Herald to Inquisitor. Bit of a jump there, yes?” 

She snorted. “If I’d known they were planning something like this, I think I might have headed for the hills as soon as I dumped you lot off here. But I should have expected something like this, I guess. Some things don’t change.” She saw his puzzled look at this and sighed. “My life whole has been like this. Choices have always been made for me. If I hadn’t developed magic, I was going to be sent off to the Chantry anyways. It’s a family tradition for the youngest. I told them I wanted to be a Templar, believe it or not. I didn’t want to go to the Chantry at all but I figured that was better than being a sister. Then it turns out I was a mage, so off to the Circle I was sent. Then the mage rebellion started and I had to fight for my life when our Templars decided to wipe out every mage at Ostwick. Then we had to flee, and fight some more and hide, and then my friends decided we should go to the Conclave. And here I am now. Herald. Inquisitor. Because of things that happened to me when I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just once, I’d like to make a choice about what happens in my life.”

“What did you want to be, if you didn't have to go to the Chantry?” he asked.

She gave a rueful laugh. “I can’t remember anymore. I was only nine when my magic manifested. With everything that’s happened since, most of my childhood is a blur. My parents loved me in their way, I suppose. My mother did most of our raising instead of nannies and tutors, at least. But nothing seemed to matter much anymore when I was sent to the Circle. I knew that’s what the rest of my life would be, cloistered and feared.”

“Have you heard from your family much?” he asked.

“I wasn’t allowed at the Circle. And afterwards, with all that happened, it seemed best to not involve them. If anyone came looking for me, they wouldn’t have to decide whether they should lie or not. Better if they thought I was dead. Leliana sent them something official, I know, after I stabilized the Breach. Some of my cousins have been making noises, trying to capitalize on my new status, but I hardly remember who they are, don’t even recognize most of their names. But I haven’t heard a thing from my parents.”

“Maybe they’re scared to write. Maybe they think you’re angry with them still for sending you to the Circle and that’s why they’ve only received official communications from the Inquisition. You did try to hide instead of going,” he said.

“Maybe.” There was silence for a bit after that, and he cast about for a way to break it. “So if you could make a choice, what would you like to do right now?” 

“Well, first I’d like a week or two in a cabin by a lake, with nothing but questionable reading material and a case or two of Orlesian reds.”

“I don’t know if the cabin thing can be arranged but I’m sure our ambassador could have the wine for you with a snap of her fingers, and you do have your own personal source of questionable reading material right here.” 

“True!” She laughed again.

“So you said first. What’s second?”

Instead of answering she leaned in, pulling him towards her. He went willingly, and her lips were warm and sweet with brandy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pushing this last bit of dialog for four chapters now. Glad the story finally caught up with it!

**Author's Note:**

> In the game, the actual quote you can overhear just inside the gates of Redcliffe is “The Templars were recalled to Val Royeaux, but some of them have ignored the order.” But I've decided to ignore the "Val Royeaux" part and assume that not all the Templars who defected from the order are running amok through the Hinterlands killing farmers' husbands. So even if you do side with the mages, Ser Surname will survive, and will be out there doing good things.
> 
> Author's note: the wiki says there are 12 months in the Thedas calendar, and each month is 30 days long, but makes no mention of days of the week or how long weeks are. There are a couple of dialog exchanges where characters use "Tuesday" and "Friday" but no other indication that the weekdays are the same as ours. So I've unilaterally decreed in my Thedas that each month consists of three 10-day long weeks, and the days of the week are simply referred to as "firstday", "seconday", etc.
> 
> [Here's Serena](https://thewightknight.tumblr.com/post/114455913083/more-playing-around-in-the-character-creator), for the curious.
> 
>  
> 
> [Feel free to come say hi on tumblr!](https://thewightknight.tumblr.com)


End file.
